


Hollow Fangs

by devastating



Series: Spooky FE3H [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Injury, Child Abuse, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Psychological Horror, Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Sylvain Jose Gautier Needs A Hug, Tagging body horror just in case, dead animal, ghost and demons, more focused on Sylvains past, no beta we die like Glenn, not primarily a Sylvix fic!, read notes for more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devastating/pseuds/devastating
Summary: “Do you ever feel like sometimes you can’t tell between what is a memory and what was a dream? Sometimes, I think that maybe everything in my childhood was nothing more than just an act of extraordinary imagination. That the things I claim to have lived through are nothing more than pieces of a make believe world that my younger self made up.“After his father passes away, Sylvain goes back to his old childhood home after 10 years of running away from it. Sometimes the past clings to you, other times, your past haunts you.Or Sylvain goes back to his haunted childhood home and has a bad time reliving the memories of what happened there
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Miklan
Series: Spooky FE3H [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924717
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	Hollow Fangs

**Author's Note:**

> **Happy Halloween!!!!**
> 
> And yes, I know it’s barely October first but shut up, it’s Halloween to me bitch. Anyways I’m starting off October with some good old haunted house au because I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I have other things planned for this month and so expect more spooky stuff from me haha 
> 
> Quick Note: **Treat this fic like a horror movie. Expect the same kind of shit from this fic for that so there will be blood, there will be injuries, there will be descriptions of those two things. If you’re not okay with that then this isn’t the fic for you, please be careful!**

* * *

**Defanged**

_Present_

* * *

“Do you ever feel like sometimes you can’t tell between what is a memory and what was a dream? Sometimes, I think that maybe everything in my childhood was nothing more than just an act of extraordinary imagination. That the things I claim to have lived through are nothing more than pieces of a make believe world that my younger self made up. Tell me, do you ever think about what is real and what is fake professor” he whispered, the heat of his coffee slowly warmed up his cold bitten lips. 

“I think” Seteth spoke calmly, hesitantly, “that maybe the brain sometimes comes up with different ways to view a certain memory to try and protect you from the harsh reality of what happened. That maybe the fantasy that one creates is rooted in reality.” The man takes a slow drink from his coffee before looking over to him with eyes that always seem to dissect him. “Sylvain, what are you trying to hide?” 

“Nothing” he smiled at the older man. “Nothing at all, professor.”

* * *

Psychology, he has come to learn, is something that should have been more interesting to him. He was naturally the kind of person that loved investigating how people’s minds worked. The kind of person that enjoyed finding out the mechanisms and traps laid inside the brain. However that is psychology in theory and not in practice, in practice he has come to learn that it is something that he would never be able to fully appreciate. One semester in psychology classes has been enough to cue him in on the fact that in this world there are two people. One that examines people and the other that is examined. There is no grey area he thinks. At least not when it’s so clear cut that he should be the one that is examined. 

He’s read enough articles and watched enough videos to know that he would sooner be a test subject than a doctor. That alone is the reason why he changed his degree despite him being a psych major for the past 2 years. He’s not so foolish to think that that is the only reason, he knows above everyone else, that the reason he runs now is because he doesn’t want the questions that are written in his skin to be answered by doctors that do know better than him. He knows better than anyone, that all it would take is one session for any doctor to see him as a test subject that is in desperate need to be dissected. 

He doesn’t think he makes a very pretty rat. 

“Changing your major now is— I mean not entirely foolish but Sylvain you took all your classes to accommodate a psych degree” Dimitri frowned. 

“Well it’s better to change now than be stuck in a job that you hate” Ingrid sighed besides him, shamelessly stealing his food despite the fact that she had claimed she wasn’t ‘hungry’. 

He chuckled, “don’t worry about it. I know what I’m doing” he smiled at the two. 

“Highly doubt that” Ingrid mumbled. 

It was nice, pleasant even, to be able to sit with his friends with only school as his biggest worry. He would have never thought that meeting random people in such a hectic and fast paced environment like college would have resulted in such strong ties. He had heard his whole life that people often met someone in their first year of college and then never thought of them again, he had fully been expecting that. Instead what he got was a group of friends that he was deathly protective of. 

“Sorry I’m late, the test took longer to finish than I thought.” 

Immediately Sylvain was on his feet and dragging the owner of the voice into his arms. That was another pleasant thing he had acquired since starting college, the addition to Felix in his life had already been a good one, but the addition of Felix as his _boyfriend_ to his life. Well, it was easy to say that he was still in the honeymoon phase. 

“I missed you so much” he mumbled into the man's skin, kissing his cheek and neck. 

Felix scoffed, “I saw you this morning” he mumbled almost annoyed but still kissed Sylvain before pulling away. “Anyways what’s this about changing majors?” 

The redhead shrugged, handing his food over to his boyfriend before slotting himself next to the younger man. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I just don’t think psychology is really the right place for me.” 

Felix hummed, chewing on the left over burger. “Well if that’s the case do whatever you want.” 

He grinned, leaning forward to kiss the man on the cheek again, “leave it to you to understand me.” 

“Chill it with the PDA Gautier” Ingrid scoffed but the fond smile on her lips betrayed her, he knew that she was more than happy that the two were finally together. “Some of us are trying to keep their food down.” 

“Fuck off” Felix huffed before flipping the blonde off. 

“If not psychology then what?” Dimitri asked genuinely, completely ignoring Felix and Ingrid to continue his conversation with him. 

He opened his mouth then, to tell the blonde that he would most likely go into history or English but the sudden ringing of his phone distracted him. He was expecting Mercedes maybe Dorothea since those were the only two that called him instead of texted him. 

He wasn’t expecting his father. 

Without a single word or look to his friends he stood up and walked out of the burger shop. He had half hoped that in the time that he had done that, that the call would have gone away and it had actually. But then the call came back through, so with a heavy weight on his chest, he picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Are you Sylvain Gautier?” a woman’s voice spoke through the line. 

“Um yes, I’m sorry who are you?” 

The woman cleared her throat quietly before speaking up, “I’m officer Grendal with the Fhirdiad police department.” 

He didn't have to hear the rest of what she had to say; this wasn’t the first time an officer had to tell him that a family member was dead.

* * *

Sylvain had been to one funeral before this one, and that one he couldn’t entirely remember it at all. What he did remember though, was that there was at least a decent amount of people that had showed up. That there had been enough of a crowd that he could slink back and disappear in the shadows. This time it was just him and his own group of friends that had decided to tag along for his own sake. In the time since he had last seen his father it appeared that he had managed to isolate himself to the point that the only reason the police had known he had died was because his secretary had asked the cops to go check on him. 

Heart attack. 

That was the simple cause for him to now be considered an orphan. The coroner said it was caused by an overabundance of stress, something that Sylvain wishes it would be a shock to him. His father overworked himself, that was just how it always had been even before their world was turned on its head. He could count the amount of times his father had actually been there for him in one hand; he had lost count of how many times his father had chosen work over his family. 

“In his will he left his wealth and his home to you” the officer, a different one that had called him, spoke. Hesitant in the way they delivered each word. 

“Okay. Burn the house then.” His voice was foreign to him. Cold and distant but that’s all he had been feeling for the past 2 weeks since he had received the phone call. 

“I-I’m sorry? I was under impression that it is your childhood—“ 

“Burn. It” he gritted out, hands curling into white knuckled fists. There’s a tremor in his voice, he faults the way his body shivers for that. The mere mention of childhood enough to bring back memories. To remind him of the grave that is sitting next to his fathers, and the unmarked urn next to cold stone. He would rather fill in the empty spot next to his father’s tombstone than set foot into that forsaken house. 

“We will take care of it” Dimitri’s gentle voice spoke, a hand on the officer's shoulder to steer the conversation to another location. 

He feels more than sees the way that Ingrid and Felix are looking at him, their gazes burning holes into his back. He hasn’t answered any of their questions, hasn’t told them anything. Not even two weeks ago they had assumed that there was nothing to ask about his family, that it was just a simple case of him not having a healthy relationship with his parents and that’s it. After all, they all bonded over having parental issues from time to time. 

They asked, of course, about his father. About how he was feeling and coping with the news, he didn’t have the heart to tell them that his father had been dead to him since he was 14 years old. They asked later then, about how his family was doing, he didn’t have the heart to tell them that there was no one else but him. Had simply told them that he didn’t feel like talking and they dropped it. He knows now that they will ask about the tombstone that lays beside his fathers. _Alicia Mary Gautier._

He’s not sure what lie he will feed them when they do. 

Thankfully, the funeral was held in Fhirdiad which meant that after tonight, they would be able to head back to Garreg Mach and Sylvain could forget about all of this. He had lived three years without his father so much as sending him a message, he’ll be okay continuing to live now that he passed. Of course, his friends had other plans. 

“I think that we should head to Gautier and at least sort through some of your father's things” Dimitri spoke up hesitantly as they all ate their food in silence. 

“I’m not heading back there.” Blunt, short. He left no room for arguments, but of course the law student still found an opening. 

“I understand what you’re going through” Dimitri looked him in the eye, “I know better than anyone else in this room about what it feels like to lose a parent so I know that doing this will be the only way for you to get closure Sylvain. I know that it hurts but you—“ 

“I don’t give a shit about what you think” he snapped before standing up. “Do not compare your shit to mine when you don’t even know a damn thing about me.” He turned away from them all and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him and simply kept his haze forward as he walked down the empty hotel hallways. There was a level of guilt at yelling at his friends, especially when he knew that Dimitri still struggled to cope over his parent’s untimely deaths. 

But there was more frustration than anything, frustration that his friends who had never questioned him before were suddenly demanding things from him. Things that he wasn’t willing to give at the moment. Maybe there will come a day where he would be able to give them what they deserved, to explain to them why he was the way that he was, but right now. Just the mere thought that not even three hours from where they were was his old home, was enough to make him more unstable than usual. 

He groaned, raking his fingers through his hair as he stepped into the elevator, he needed a breath of fresh air and although standing in the hotel parking lot was in a way, questionable, at least it was better than staying in their shared hotel room. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back and thumping on the walls of the elevator. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes when the elevator door opened again, he knew that it wasn’t the lobby, they were on the 12th floor after all. 

The doors closed again and began to descend once more. He kept pushing back the static in his brain, the buzzing and never ending rain that had been there for as long as he could remember. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to go back upstairs if he didn’t get himself under control. There was only so much that he could push his friends away before losing them, and currently, they were all he had left. 

“I’m sorry.” The voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his eyes suddenly opening and locking on to the roof of the elevator shaft. The gold roof held a morphed reflection of him and a man that was besides him. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to look besides him and instead was frozen in place as his brain tried to process that both of them shared the same familiar hue of red. 

“I’m sorry about your loss.” 

Then the doors to the elevator opened at the same time that he finally managed to snap himself out of the frozen state he was in, wiping his head to the side only to find that he was alone. He quickly looked back up to the roof of the elevator, half hoping that the man was reflected on there but just saw his own reflection instead. The elevator chimed, the ring enough to cause him to quickly walk out of the shaft before it closed and ascended one more. 

He breathed in shakily, rubbing at his eyes and then looking around him until his gaze landed on red at the end of the hall. It was far away but he could see a man with brown red hair unlocking a door and walking away. The breath that came out of him was nothing short of relief. He had just managed to get out of the elevator quickly, that was all. 

“Sylvain.” 

He turned behind him, finding Felix step out of the other elevator shaft. The younger man looked more than just a little concerned and that alone pained him, “I’m fine Fe.” 

“I thought we agreed to not lie to each other” Felix frowned. 

“We did” he sighed, before motioning Felix to follow him as he walked them both out to the parking lot. Bending down to sit on the curve, far enough that they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“How you’re doing,” Felix answered immediately. “How you’re feeling, how you’re _really_ feeling. Fuck Syl you haven’t— you haven’t said _anything_.” 

“I know.” 

“Then say something.” Hesitantly, Felix grabbed his hand, tugging at him until he was forced to make eye contact. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I can’t go back to that house Felix” he whispered, he could feel how his walls shook with each second that the other man was looking at him. “I can’t go back.” 

“Why?” 

“I just can’t” he choked out before turning away, hiding his face with the back of his hand. The temptation to bite down on his skin to keep him quiet was there, a constant buzz in the back of his mind. “I can’t.” 

“You have to tell me why” Felix whispered. “I know that it’s...hard. And we both know that I suck at saying the right thing but... maybe Dimitri is right. You need the closure Sylvain.” He shook his head, closing his eyes but it wasn’t long until he felt calloused hands cup his cheeks, gentle fingers wiped away his tears. “You can’t run from this.” 

“I can’t go back” he whispered, opening his eyes to look at his boyfriend. There was love, love that he had not had targeted at him in years. Affection, that he had never thought he would be given ever again. Felix’s eyes were an endless ocean that tempted weaker men to drown in it, currently, he was unsure on whether he wanted to be weak or not . “I can’t do this.” 

“Yes you can” Felix whispered, leaning forward and laying sweet gentle kisses on his cheeks. “Yes you can.” 

A short, violent sob was ripped from his chest and before he knew it, he was crying. He had not cried when he had heard the news, he had not cried when he had to identify his father's body, he had not cried in the funeral, he had not cried in years, but here in the cold autumn night, he cried. 

“I have you” Felix whispered, holding the pieces of his broken self in his arms. “I have you.” 

For some reason, that alone was the only reason why later that night, when they all laid in their beds with the lights off waiting for sleep to take them away. He agreed to go to his old home. One day he said, one day and at night we leave. They all agreed to it and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t dream at all.

* * *

**Teething**

_10 Years Ago, Great Tree Moon_

* * *

“Sylvain help your brother with the boxes! Take them all to the library” his mother called out, waited for him to nod and then continued her way into the kitchen

When he had been told that they were moving away from Charon and instead to this secluded part of Faerghus, he had been more than overjoyed at the idea of not only having a big place to run around but that he would be able to have his _own_ room. Of course he quickly found out that moving was boring and labor inducing, he found himself already sore despite the fact that they had barely emptied one truck and still had another truck to go. That wasn’t even counting for unpacking everything. Still, he knew better than to complain to his mom. If Alicia Gautier was anything when she was mad, it was terrifying. 

“Where do you want me to put this” he asked the minute he stepped into the library, his older brother just huffed at him while he unpacked some of the books from the box. “Mik. Where do you want them?” 

“Just— anywhere I don’t give a shit.” 

Sylvain frowned, putting the box down on the floor and crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you still mad that we moved here?” 

“Of-fucken-course I’m pissed” Miklan groaned, slamming a book into the shelve before turning to him. “Do you not realize that we’re going to be homeschooled? _Homeschooled_?” 

“Doesn’t sound that bad.” 

“Oh. It’s bad” his brother groaned. “24 fucken hours stuck in this fucken prison with no friends to talk to.” 

“I thought you hated people though” he squinted at his older brother, the older boy just shrugged at that comment. 

“At least I had the option to be antisocial now I’m being forced into it” Miklan sighed before turning to him. “You better not get annoying.” 

Sylvain just rolled his eyes, “I won’t.” 

“Uh-huh, I believe that as much as that one time you said you wouldn’t get scared when I showed you that movie.” 

“That was different! I didn’t know that it would be scary” he pouted, earning a chuckle from the older boy. Miklan opened his mouth to speak then but immediately clamped it shut when the two heard footsteps upstairs, the floors creaked and dust fell from the roof and unto the floor. Steady hard stomps that paced back and forth and back and forth until they stopped. All that remained as proof of that ever happening was the dust that had fallen onto the floor. 

“That’s just great. I’m not fucken sweeping that shit up” Miklan mumbled before turning his attention back to the books. “Anyways go help mom, I don’t need help here.” 

“Hmmm I guess” Sylvain mumbled before stepping out of the room and towards the last place he had seen his mom. 

He seriously hoped his mother hadn’t moved from there. He didn’t want to complain, but part of him was annoyed at how big the house was. When they had first driven up to it and his mother had gone on a tangent about how this was an 1800’s Victorian home that once housed nobles, he had understandably gotten excited. Now however, as he’s opening the fifth empty room with at least two more rooms in that hallway alone, the excitement had gone down. 

There was still some excitement, after all this was a new home, new life. He, like his brother, had been mad that they had to move, especially because he would have to leave his friends behind. But he was also curious by nature and enjoyed things being new, it meant more secrets to uncover and new things to do. Yes, they would be homeschooled from now on, but he figured that he would be able to make the best out of it. Though he did understand his brother, afterall, Miklan was 17. He figured that the older boy would have enjoyed spending his last few years of highschool with his friends. 

“There you are Sylvie” his mother spoke behind him, causing the redhead to jump slightly before turning to her. Her usual copper locks now a frizzy mess. “I’m going to need your help bringing down some boxes. They’re a bit heavy but I had Mik mess with getting the fridge down so you’ll have to help.”

He frowned, “is dad helping Mik?” 

His mother sighed, turning to look away from him before shaking her head slightly, “your father had to go to work. Just us three for right now, so come on. Those trucks aren’t getting unloaded by themselves.” 

Settling into the house took a lot longer than he thought, especially when after they finished, there were still at least 10 different rooms that were left completely empty. But that wasn’t really a shock since their previous home had been very small in comparison to this one. And he did end up getting his own bedroom like promised, though that was also very empty too. He had been sharing his with Miklan afterall, so now that their things were split in half, neither of them had a lot of things left for each other. 

“How come there’s electrical shit all through the house but no fucken phone reception?” 

“Miklan. Language” his mother hissed, slamming Miklan’s dinner plate on the table before turning back to grab Sylvain’s. 

“I’m just saying that it’s _dumb_ that our phones don’t seem to work” Miklan mumbled as their mother finally joined them on the table. 

“We’re high in the mountains Mik, your father will contact the phone company to see if they can at least install a landline” his mother sighed as Sylvain just observed the conversation on the side lines. Focusing on eating his chicken soup since he didn’t have a phone himself, and therefore, this conversation didn’t involve him. 

“A landline? Fuck me” his brother groaned and instantly got a glare from his mother. “Will we at least have wifi?” 

“Your father is looking at that too.” 

The older boy groaned dramatically and all Sylvain could do was giggle at that, earning him a glare from Miklan, “shut it, if you had a phone you would understand.” 

“But I don’t so now we’re both the same,” he giggled, sticking his tongue out and immediately Miklan smacked his arm causing him to also go and smack him back. Before they both knew it they were two seconds from rough housing on the dining room table before their mother cleared her throat. The simple action was enough to make the two get back on their seats and start eating. 

“We’ll have WiFi soon enough” his mother continued as if her two sons hadn’t been close to christening the house with its first bruise. “You’ll see things will go back to normal soon enough.” 

“Oh yeah, and that’s why we’re eating alone while dad is three hours away from here” Miklan mumbled before shaking his head. “If he was going to start working in Fhirdiad then why the hell didn’t we just move _there_?” 

“Because I like this house” his mother answered before taking a sip of her wine. “It’s as simple as that.” 

“I like it!” Sylvain spoke up after a baited second. “I think it’s cool.” 

“Thank you Sylvie,” his mother smiled at him while his brother flipped him off under the table. “But as I was about to say, whether you like it or not doesn’t matter, this is home now. _Our home._ ”

* * *

Things started off simple enough, there was the occasional argument and the occasional annoyance, but that was normal, expected after having such a drastic change. But slowly, things started to fall apart. 

“I dont give a shit about whether or not you’re working! This is the last time you fucken leave without saying goodbye to your sons!!” 

His eyes focused on the cracks of his ceiling as the muffled yelling got louder. He had gotten used to the fighting, it was a new development with his father's job, somehow though, it was getting worse. He had no idea how late it was, all he knew was that he was alone in the dark and his parents yelling only got louder the more he focused on it. The shrill shouts from his mother was something he wished he could say he wasn’t used to. A part of him hated that he never really heard his father truly yell back, something about his father still staying calm and collected angered him. 

He sighed, pushing the covers off and swinging his legs over to the floor. Maybe, he thought, maybe if they saw that they had woken him up they would stop arguing. He had barely managed to open the door up before his eyes landed on his older brother. The boy was leaning on his door frame looking down at the staircase with a mixture of exhaustion and anger. 

“Mik?” 

The older boy blinked before turning to him, “go back to sleep.” 

“I can’t.” 

The older turned then just as they both heard glass break and more screams from his mother, only now was his father yelling back at her. With a sigh, the older boy pushed himself off the wall and looked towards him. “Come on, I’m sure there’s some other place that won’t be as loud.” 

He nodded, flinching when he heard another piece of glass shatter and this time his father was the one that was screaming. Mindlessly, he grabbed his brother's hand and let the older boy drag him away from that. It was a good thing that the house was as big as it was, by the time they had found a secluded area all they could hear was muffled voices and that was it. 

“Mom seemed mad” he mumbled, walking into the empty room and letting his fingers trace the muted green walls. 

“No shit” Miklan huffed. “Of course she’s mad. With a husband like dad I fucken wonder why she hasn’t just divorced him.” 

“Don’t say that!” He frowned at his brother. “We’re a family.” 

The older boy scoffed, “and what a family we are,” he mumbled before walking over to an empty box and used it as a seat. 

“We’re still family even with all the bad stuff…” 

“Yea….. Guess you can say that.” 

He isn’t sure how he managed it, but that night he fell asleep on the cold wood floor only to wake up back in his bed, he gave a wordless thanks to his brother for that. Breakfast of course, was a somber affair. Miklan asked about phones and WiFi like always, his mother ignored him and emptied half a bottle of wine, and his father was at work. 

A usual Tuesday morning. 

Same as always. 

After that day, a routine was set in place. Every night their parents would fight, and everytime the yelling got too loud, he found himself in the same pale green room. Sometimes Miklan would join him, most times he would just stay there until he fell asleep. Eventually he started transferring all of his things to that room, by the end of that month, all except his bed was in that room. He would have asked Miklan to help with that but his brother was more annoyed than usual, he figured that their parents' constant bickering and the lack of phone service was what had caused his brother's sudden sour mood. That was fine though, it was understandable, he settled with pushing one of the old couches that had come with the house into the room. It was small and lumpy, a pale grey and not nearly wide or long enough to serve as a bed, but it was better than the cold wood floor. 

He was dragging his comforter into the green room, humming under his breath when he turned the corner and found his brother looking out of one of the windows. The action was enough to cause him to stop suddenly, his brother had never been one to leave his room and just look out a window, that was unless there was something worth watching. With that in mind, he tiptoed his way over to the window to look outside, his shoulder bumping on his brother's arm lightly as he looked outside. 

There were two dogs outside, brown mangy things that even from so far away, he could see all their mats and dirt that clung onto their fur. But the dogs weren’t what he or his brother was really focusing, it was instead the deer carcass that they were eating. Sylvain had to remind himself that this was part of nature, the prey got killed and eaten so that the predators could keep on living. Even still, he found himself flinching away from the window pane and felt vile crawl up his throat. 

“The strong eat the weak.” 

He breathed in sharply, keeping his eyes locked on the corner of the window pane as he felt a shiver run down his back. He didn’t know why, he had no idea why he suddenly felt so scared to hear his brother's voice. It was the same as always, the same low tone and yet his insides turned and his heartbeat started to pick up. It was his brother’s voice, he kept repeating to himself, it’s just his brother's voice. 

“It’s survival of the fittest.” Before he knew it there was a hand in his hair yanking him back and suddenly his eyes locked onto his brothers. 

Cold spilled into his blood; those were not his brother's eyes. 

He yelled out, using all of his strength to push his brother off of him and run. He could hear his brother running after him but he didn’t turn to try and find out. He simply kept running until he saw pale green walls, bursting into the room and turning back to find his brother running down the hall, his eyes burning into him. He didn’t hesitate to slam the door shut and lock it, jumping back when he heard the older boy start to pound on it and shake the doorknob. The pounding got louder and with shaky hands he covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut and took slow steps away from the door. The banging got louder and his brothers yells morphed into growls and all he could do was curl up on the old couch and wait till it went away. He’s not sure how long it lasted, all he knew was that by the time it was silent and he opened his eyes the sun was no longer there. A sob escaped his lips as he looked towards the door that had somehow survived the assault. 

He didn’t go downstairs for dinner that night.

* * *

Miklan grew worse after that. There were moments in the day where he was okay, where he was his brother, but those moments were getting less and less common. Instead his brother’s eyes changed like they did that day and he found himself nursing more bruises and cuts. It started out small, punches and hair yanking, slaps and kicks. Just as soon as he had gotten used to those however, his brother changed things up. 

“Let go of me Mik. Let go!” He yelled, kicking and clawing at his brother's hand, the one that had a fist full of his own hair as the older boy dragged him down the hallway. “Let me go!!” 

The laugh that came out of his brother wasn’t like anything he had ever heard before, distorted and garbled, a mixture between a chuckle and a growl. It sent shivers down his spine and tears to finally start spilling down his cheeks. “Stop it Mik! Please” he sobbed out, kicking out and writhing around but his brother just tightening his hold on his hair and kept dragging him down the wooden floor. 

“Miklan!” Instantly the hand in his hair let go, his body fell to the floor with a sob and he could only cry as he heard his mother yell at his brother. Shrill screeches and animalistic laughter filled his ears, with trembling hands he pushed himself off the floor and ran. Back to the green room, back to the only place where the sounds are muffled enough to sleep. 

His mother came later that night to check on him, reeking of booze and cigarettes, slurred words of comfort and not so gentle hugs. He knew come next morning his mother wouldn’t remember a damn thing that had happened that night. 

When the next morning came however and he found the kitchen empty, a horrible heavy feeling settled in the bottom of his stomach. Instantly he was running up the stairs and to his parents room, even through the door he could hear his mother coughing violently. He didn’t bother knocking, he pushed through the door just in time to see his mother lean to the side of her bed, the violent coughing suddenly turning into retching. 

And then his mind blanked, static filled his ears as he watched his mother continue to heave and cough. A drop of crimson red rolled down her chin, slowly falling down and joining the puddle of blood on the wood floor. The static got louder and his eyes began to water as he watched his mother continue to cough up blood. It wasn’t until his mother stopped and fell back onto the bed that the static stopped, his mothers wheezing the only sound left in the room. Eventually her breathing eventually evened out, leaving him alone in the room without an explanation or any reassurance. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew throwing up blood was definitely worrisome enough that he should call an ambulance if not at least his father. 

“It’s easier like this don’t you think” his brother’s voice echoed in the walls as he hesitantly turned around to find him leaning on the door frame, a wolfish grin on his face. “Easier to control her when she’s sick.”

He’s slamming the bedroom door on his brother's face before the older boy could start laughing. A choked up sob left his trembling lips as he managed to lock the door and fall to the ground, his brother's laughter growing louder and louder. The grin that his brother had had, burned into his mind. A twisted animalistic thing, stretched so far Sylvain could have sworn it threatened to break his brother’s cheeks. He doesn’t move from the floor he fell on until he hears his brother walk away. He doesn’t stop crying as he cleans up the blood from the floor. He doesn’t stop shaking even as he curls up beside his mother's body. 

It’s a routine, he realizes, to cry himself to sleep. 

When his father returned from work, Miklan always went back to normal. When his father returned from work, his mother never coughed up blood. When his father returned from work, Sylvain was viewed as crazy. 

“Father please” he breathed out, “Mik he’s doing something to mom I don’t know what she’s—“ 

“That’s enough” his father yelled causing the red headed to flinch away from him. “I will not have a liar for a son.” 

“I’m not lying” he sobbed before a hand met his cheek causing him to stumble to the ground. 

“I will not have a weak son either” his father growled. “I already have my hands full dealing with the failure that is your brother, I will not have you making those same fuck ups too.” That was all his father said before leaving his office and leaving him there on the cold wooden floor. 

He didn’t cry himself to sleep that night. He learned to bite his tongue from that day on.

* * *

It was starting to get cold now, the first snow of the year had fallen a week ago. That was the only reason why he now spent most of his days surrounded by pale green. His mother never left her room either, she was either drunk or sick. His father practically lived in Fhirdiad and he never went out to see what Miklan was up to. 

It was because he was constantly in the room instead of playing outside in the woods that he started noticing things. Small objects falling from the bookshelves, footsteps that never stopped pacing and muffled voices that didn’t belong to anyone in his family. At first he thought it was his imagination, a simple mind trick. But after the third time that he saw a shadow standing at the end of the hall, he learned not to question its existence. Some questions, he figured, were better left unanswered. 

The muffled voices are what woke him up now, muffled frantic voices. He blinked rapidly, trying to get the drowsiness to go away when suddenly his entire body froze. He’s not in the pale green room and instead in his old room; and Miklan is standing in the corner of his room. Breathing is suddenly hard for him as he watches his brother shake his head, hands coming up to scratch at his face and yanking his hair from the roots. 

“No. I don’t want to hurt them” Miklan mumbles, the voice pained and sad. It’s Miklan though, his _brother_. It had been weeks since he had heard Miklan’s real voice and for a split second he thinks about sighing in relief until his brother yells, a guttural animalistic thing that causes him to jump up and try to push himself away from him. Miklan yells again, yanking his hair before Sylvain watches his brother's body shake. 

He can only whimper as he watches his brother suddenly go quiet and let his head hang low. For a baited second all he can hear is Miklan’s heavy breathing before he hears the first crack. Tears start to roll down his cheeks as he watches Miklan turn his head to the side, his neck cracked into a painful sharp angle, the bone breaking with the action. A sob escapes his lips as he watches his brother’s body move and twitch, each move followed by cracks. His bones snapped almost to the point of breaking skin and then popped back into place as his brother's body contorted in the dim moonlight. 

Crack. Snap. Pop. 

He’s covering his mouth with his hands to stop himself from screaming, from making any noise. His shivering violently and every muscle in his body is telling him to run and hide but he can’t manage to look away at what is happening to his brother. More cracking, more popping until suddenly it all stopped. Another whimper escapes his breath and that’s all it takes for him to suddenly be looking into his brother's eyes. They’re different again, this time he vaguely thinks that there’s nothing human about them. 

He doesn’t know what happens next. Suddenly he’s looking into his brother's eyes and then suddenly he’s waking up outside cold and alone. It’s still dark out and he can feel his body ache with bruises he knows will be there come morning. He doesn't bother standing up and making his way back to his house, for some reason he can finally breathe in the cold lonely night. He doesn’t cry, he knows not to cry now, he does however curl up beside a tree and holds himself until the sun comes up.

When he finally takes a look at himself in the mirror he’s covered in bruises but the thing that causes him to shiver are the scratch marks that run down his sides. He’s seen enough animal documentaries to know they’re not human scratches. 

He doesn’t sleep in his room again.

* * *

**Gums**

_Present_

* * *

He doesn’t bother to hide how nervous he is, there was no use in hiding that when it was so obvious that he was shivering. The entire car ride Felix never let go of his hand and the other two talked about other things to distract him from what was to come. Even still, his mind just stayed focused on the task he was about to do. Every stop they made to get gas was a stop where he would tell everyone that ‘never mind I don’t want to go to the house’. 

They always talked him out of backing out. 

By the time they were driving through the front gates, he felt like throwing up. 

For a split second he considered closing his eyes, that that alone would be enough to save him from seeing that place again but somehow closing his eyes only caused his nausea to worsen so that plan was quickly thrown out the window. With each breath he took that he got closer, he noticed slowly that he was already starting to unravel. By the time the house came into view he was hyperventilating. 

He wished somehow that his father had done some remodeling to make it look different. 

The same crimson red bricks still lined the walls, overgrown ivy climbed up the walls and blocked out the cracks and holes. What was once his mother’s precious garden was nothing more than weeds and twigs. The mansion loomed over you, threatened you with its very existence. Even without stepping foot into it, Sylvain knew that all he would find inside was solitude. 

He didn’t even wait for Dimitri to fully park before he got out of the car. His feet immediately caused him to turn his back on the house and practically run away from the place. He had nearly made it into the woods before he felt a hand grab his wrist, pieces of his past flashed in his mind, instantly he pulled away. Flinching away in fear and curling himself away. 

“Syl it’s me.” Gentle hands touched his and pushed them away from his face until all he could see was Felix’s concerned eyes. “It’s me.” 

“It’s you” he breathed out shakily, swallowing the scream that had been stuck in his throat and looking past Felix. Both Ingrid and Dimitri stood a couple paces away, the same look of concern was in their eyes too. “S-Sorry, I panicked.” 

Felix frowned, “Syl if it’s too hard—“ 

“I’m fine” he blurted out, shaking his head before reaching out and grabbing his boyfriend's hand. “I’m fine just. Panicked. It’s been years since I came back.” 

He didn’t wait for Felix to say anything more, he simply grabbed his boyfriends hands and forced himself to walk to the doors of the mansion. He could tell that his hold on Felix’s hand was a bit too tight, could tell that he was shivering to the point that Dimitri and Ingrid seemed to want to point it out. But he knew, he knew more than anyone here that this was something that needed to be done. He couldn’t keep running away. With a shaky breath, he unlocked the front door. 

The cold air that hit his face was enough for his breath to hitch. He had to remind himself that it’s just the air conditioning, there’s perfect simple explanations for whatever happens inside the house. A mantra he repeats as he steps into the house. For a split second he loses himself, everything looks the same, everything has stayed the same. The same maroon rug flows down the main corridor, the same spiral wooden staircase, the same gold curtains and the same furniture. Obviously things would have been kept, there was no use in getting rid of all the furniture but just the knowledge that it was this exact furniture that he and his family had unpacked years ago is enough for his eyes to tear up. 

“W-Welcome to Gautier manor” he chuckles nervously, turning back to his friends and giving them a smile he knows no one will believe. “I would give you a tour but as you can probably see, we’ll be here awhile if I do that.” 

“It’s a very beautiful home” Dimitri smiles at him as he shuts the door behind them. 

“I had no idea your dad had _this_ much money” Ingrid whispered in awe, her eyes tracing every wooden carving and chandelier. 

He chuckled nervously, “yeah well, being an owner of a bank does that.” 

“Why don’t you show us the important rooms” Dimitri turned to him with patient eyes, “the ones that mattered?” 

He doesn’t have the heart to tell the blond that it’s the important rooms that he wants to stay away from. But the way the three look at him now, calm and loving, is enough for him to be able to take a deep breath in and see things logically. To be able to push down his fears and past and function enough to at least give his friends this much since he keeps refusing them everything else. 

“Yeah okay” he smiled before walking away and towards the dining room, “we never really ate here honestly, I can count the amount of times that we ever even touched those plates” he chuckled before walking into the kitchen area. His mind flashed a memory of chicken soup and play fighting, without knowing it, his lips twitched into a smile. “This was where we actually ate.” 

“I feel like Ashe and Dedue would kill to be able to have a kitchen like this” Ingrid grinned as the three looked around the room. 

“They’ll be sad to know then that the oven never fully worked” he forced his tone to stay upbeat. “Anyways the rest of the downstairs was usually filled with libraries and studies that I was never allowed into.” He left out that it was more like his mind refused to let him wander into any room in the bottom floor after seeing one too many shadows. 

“Upstairs is where I actually spent my time,” he explained as he climbed up the stairs and into the main hallway. “Right over here was my old room” he forced himself to continue though his voice cracked with each word. He didn’t open the door, he merely pointed and hoped that they wouldn’t be too curious about looking inside. He hadn’t stepped foot in that room in 10 years, he wasn’t about to change that now. 

“And uh” he whispered, turning to the side. His fingers curled into fists at the sight of the blue door, 9 years ago he had found the key to this room and locked it before throwing the key down the old well in the backyard. Some rooms, he figured, were better left untouched. “This was my brother's room.” 

He heard the exact moment that the words hit the other three by the small gasps that left their mouths. He didn’t bother to look to them then, his eyes locked on the blue paint that was beginning to chip on certain areas. Carefully he flicked off some of the paint, the static in his brain now a low simmer. 

“I didn’t know you had a brother” Ingrid whispered. 

“He killed himself.” 

Without another word, he turned around and rounded the corner, walking down the hallways until he was in his old parents room, or more accurately, his mother's room. That room, he managed to push the door open and walked into. His father didn’t use the room after the incident, had made a room for himself on the bottom floor and so this room was still the same as it was the last time he had been inside of it. Some things were missing, some had been taken away, but it still looked exactly like how his mother had decorated. Pastel colors decorated the room, now so worn down that they were nothing but hints of pigment. 

“This was my mother's room” he explained with a pained smile. “She loved pastel colors for some reason. There’s about four different photo albums somewhere of my brother and I in about a hundred or so pastel suits. She’s the reason why I grew up not knowing that pink was supposed to be a girl color.” 

He chuckled quietly as he took careful steps deeper into the room. His eyes scanning every single detail of it, committing it to memory. He figured that this room should also be another one that he should lock up and never disturb again. Then the cold settled into his bones as he looked over to the bedside, memories of blood stains and coughs filled him. The wood on that side was a deeper brown, tainted with blood he had scrubbed off time and time again. No matter what he used, that stain never left, no matter how hard he scrubbed, that stain never went away. Even to this day, it annoyed him that he could never get rid of that dark crimson spot. 

“Syl.” 

Felix’s voice snapped him out his train of the thought, the three of them looking at him patiently and calmly. That’s right, he thinks, now isn’t the time to think of crimson black stains. 

He smiled, “sorry about that. Anyways on to the next room” he laughed a sad little thing as he walked past them and down the hall. The static in his brain is stronger now, louder, with each step he takes. Memories of running down this hallway pass like a never ending film in front of him. Scraped knees, bruised skin, tears— so many tears were shed in this very hallway. He doesn’t realize that he’s practically running down the hallways until green walls surround him. Instantly, the static stops and his breathing evens out. The tears that had threatened to spill disappear and his shaking hands finally calm. 

“T-This” he croaks out, a half sob. “This was the room I spent all my time in.” 

It hadn’t changed of course, even his stack of comforters and pillows were still piled onto the left corner of the room. The couch, an old friend, now so much smaller than he had remembered. He smiled then, his first true smile as he walked over to touch it. This couch, he thinks, is the only thing that ever truly stayed by his side during his whole childhood. 

“I used to sleep here every night” he whispers, fully aware of the tears that are now freely going down his cheeks. “You wouldn’t be able to hear the yelling here. You wouldn’t be able to hear anything really, at least not as much as anywhere else.” He chuckled, his hand gripping the couch’s arm rest. “Fe you always get mad at me for falling asleep on the couch instead of coming to bed” another sob. “You have this guy to blame for honestly. 

He breathed in shakily, the air coming in sharp and grounding as he pulled his hand away. How silly of him, he berates himself, to get emotional over a fucken couch. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he keeps walking in the room, taking in all of the things he left behind. “I took most of the stuff from here when I moved so that’s why it’s so empty” he explains, finding himself next to the window where an array of toys were perfectly aligned. “Well some stuff I left” he chuckled as he picked up a small wolf toy, smiling down at it. 

He sees it from the corner of his eyes, a subtle enough movement that he doesn’t jerk but enough to make him look out the window. Standing outside at the edge of the woods is a single deer, a young buck with antlers that are barely even stubs. His fur is a murky red brown and it’s not the prettiest deer he’s seen, but somehow, it’s the only one that’s managed to make his breathing hitch.

* * *

**Incisors**

_10 Years Ago, Red Wolf Moon_

* * *

It’s been a long time since he woke up not feeling some kind of soreness in his body. The old couch can only do so much for his spine and even the multiple comforters he puts to help with the padding isn’t enough. Even still, he would much rather have an aching back than ever wake up to Miklan in his room ever again. He’s learned not to be anywhere near his older brother now. The days drag and blend into each other, he can’t remember the last time he saw his father. He can’t remember the last time they had a family dinner. Sometimes he wishes for those days to come back, wishes that they had never moved to this cursed home. 

There’s very little for him to do about that though. 

He adapts, learns when to avoid his brother and when he can’t, he learns how to cope with the pain. He gets used to cleaning up his mother's blood and stashing away her liquor. It’s a routine, a morbid perverse routine that he thinks that no one should ever get used to and yet, he has. There isn’t a sudden change, there isn’t a sudden event that made things change. Somehow, that’s worse. 

He wakes up to nails raking down the room's door, a low guttural growl. Snarls and heavy breathing that sound like a wild animal, his mind supplies the distant memory of dogs eating the deer. He pushes his blankets off of him, falling to the floor and then crawling over to hide under his desk, pushing the chair close to him to try and make himself invisible. By the time the door opens, he has a hand to his mouth and nose. 

From where he’s hiding he can’t see his brother's face, but he can see his legs. His brother is wearing his snow boots and that alone causes him to start shivering. It wouldn’t be the first time his brother knocked him out and dragged him out to the woods, but it had never happened while there was snow outside. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew his lone pajamas wouldn’t be enough to keep hypothermia at bay. 

“Sylvie.” Tears streaked down his cheeks without permission. A mixture of his brother’s voice and an animalistic growl called out to him. Heavy footsteps echoed in the room as Miklan kept looking for him. “Sylvie come on out.” 

Then the desk chair is thrown to the other side of the room with a loud yell and Sylvain is dashing out of his brother’s way. Pushing himself off the floor and sprinting out the room, he could hear his brother running after him, yelling and snarling as the entire house began to shake. Picture frames fell and shattered on the floor as doors slammed closed on him, blocking any safe haven from him. All he could do was keep running, his feet leading him down stairs and towards the front door. 

Calloused hands grabbed his arm before he could reach out to the door, yanking him back and throwing him on the floor, his head hitting the edge of the stairs with a painful thud. Everything started spinning then, his body no longer listened to what he wanted it to do and in the fog he could hear his brother laugh until he was in direct eyesight of him. Sharp toothed smile directed at him but it was the shadow that was latched onto his brother that caused his body to tense. 

“ _The weak eat the strong._ ”

Hands circle around his ankles and he can only whimper as his brother started to drag him across the floor, his limp arms can do nothing to stop this. Breathing is getting harder by the second and he could feel the wet sticky sensation of blood trickling down the side of his head. He can barely keep his eyes open and when he does manage to look, everything spins. He’s surrounded by shadows all with the same toothy grin that was on his brother's face. He can hear them speaking, laughing at him and all he can do is whimper and cry as his brother drags him to the back door. The voices got louder and the shadows are now circling around him by the time Miklan opens the back door, the cold Faerghan wind shooting pins and needles into his skin. 

“Mik please” he manages to whisper. “Please Mik.” 

He’s hoisted up then, thrown over his brother's shoulder with unnatural strength as his brother starts walking into the snow filled night. He’s mumbling now, begging for mercy but with each step that his brother takes, dread fills his bones. He starts blacking out, his eyelids unable to stay open. The crunching of the snow and the howling wind lulling him into a sense of serenity. It isn’t until his brother stops walking and throws him down to the cold hard snow that he’s jolted awake again. His limbs still don’t work properly and all he can do is watch. Looming over him his brother is no longer smiling, instead there’s a pained look on his face. 

“Safer like this Syl. Safer out here” Miklan mumbles before picking him up. The action causes him to gasp and for the first time his hands work enough to cling to his brother's forearms. 

“Mik please” the tears in his eyes make it hard for him to see his brother but for the first time in months, he thinks that his brother’s eyes look like him again. 

And then Miklan throws him and all he sees is the crescent moon above him before his head hits cold stone and everything goes black.

* * *

He wakes up two days later in a hospital bed, the first thing he sees is the police officer that sits next to him. 

He finds out five things that day. 

One: Miklan shot and killed his mother, his father's old hunting gun apparently. Something he had never even thought his father owned. 

Two: Miklan shot himself after doing that, point blank. He died instantly. 

Three: The only reason he did not die that night was because the old well that Miklan threw him into somehow blocked out the howling wind and snow and therefore, he was able to stay warm until he was found. 

Four: Miklan called the cops before he killed himself. Told them of the location of where he left Sylvain and that was it. According to the officer he had been crying, he finds that hard to believe. His brother never cried after all, he was stronger than that. 

Five: Even after all of this, he woke up alone with just a police officer besides him because in the two days that he was unconscious, his father had returned to work. He wishes that hurt as much as it was supposed to. 

Recovery is quick and easy. Talking to cops however is not, he quickly learns that nothing he says is being listened to. Nobody believes him when he tells them about the past few weeks he has been living, about the shadows and muffled voices. By the end of the second day, the cops deemed him too emotionally unstable to be able to give a proper account of the events that took place. 

By the end of the week, he has a newspaper on his lap that reads: 

_17 year old boy murdered his mother and left brother in a well before committing suicide. Psychologists believe that the boy suffered through multiple mental illnesses that caused him to do such monstrous actions. Old school mates claim that the boy had never shown signs of aggression and that he loved his mother and brother dearly before the family had moved to Gautier county. The younger brother survived and the father has yet to make a statement._

After that day, he learns that no one will ever believe him.

* * *

**Dentures**

_Present_

* * *

The leaves crunch underneath his boots as he makes the trek up into the woods. The clouds covered up most of the sun but there was still enough light that he allowed himself to take his time as he walked in silence. He had left the others behind in the car, told them that this was something that he needed to do on his own. 

It doesn’t take him long before he stops. The old well has been overtaken by nature, weeds, and even flowers have made home out of the rock walls. The cement slab that his father had placed as a cover now cracked with it’s own weeds growing from it. Next to the well however, is an urn that he had stolen, one that he had taken without his father knowing. The brass metal now clouded with rust and an array of wildflowers now surrounded it, had it not been for the shine that reflected off its surface, it would never be found by anyone. 

He walked forward then, kneeling down in front of it. “Safer out here” he whispered as he traced a finger on the cold metal. “Right Mik?”

**Author's Note:**

> Go yell at me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/wrathiess)


End file.
